Can You Stand the Rain?
by XxSapphireBeatXx
Summary: Jamie 'Jojo' Harpner Jr. is believed to have it all,but is that true? If so then why does he continue to run from his past? Or does he embrace it? "If you can't handle the rain, stay inside..." R&R! Probably violence, language, mild sexual themes, drugs
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from "Horton Hears a Who" Only name changes and my characters. I also mixed a few real named TV shows, which aren't mine either.**

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm back in the flesh and super motivated too! I'm so happy to be back into the writer's world and it felt so good to actually write something for myself (and not for school). Hopefully I still have some magic in my fingers and will get good reviews and views. So please enjoy and I will check you guys back in Chapter 1!**

Prologue

I'm sick of this, all of it. Every single freaking moment of it. "Oh, it's Mr. 'Jojo' himself?" this, or "I betchu you feel too good for us, huh?" that. Why can' people just shut up and take a moment to think about I feel before they sit here and put all my business on blast? Not one person ever thinks about the consequences of being a star, being on top. It's not always about money, cars, traveling, or how many chicks I can bring back to my hotel either. No one ever thinks about the constant stress I'm put under every single day of my crappy life. When some people think, "Look at Jamie. He probably sleeps under money. Probably owns over twenty private jets. And let's not even speak about how many girls he has flocking under him all the time." And so on, it makes me sick.

If only all that crap was actually true. My mother, Tabitha, said that by becoming an actor will help me become a man. She said that I will be able to take care of her like a good son should. Pay for all those doctor visits and rehab bills she has. (And yes I said rehab. My mother is a drug addict all right. But "'Jojo' is perfect. He doesn't have problems. He has money so he's fine." If only that was true.) "Becoming an actor can help me get off this stuff," she said. If becoming an actor is supposed to help her stop then where's the result? She seems to be getting deeper and deeper every day. And because of my contract, she takes 45% of what I make, 15% goes to taxes, 20% goes to all my bills and expenses, and 20% is my money to keep. Well whip-dee-freakin'-doo. But that's just money and my DM ('Drug Mother', she thinks that means 'Dancing Mama' but the only dancing she does is the 'Druggy' when she's high) My Pops, (if he still alive) left us at the hospital when I was born. The bastard actually put 'Devil's Spawn' on my Birth Certificate. Why my DM named me after this convicted serial killer, I will probably never find out. (He was convicted for killing two sisters back in 1984, set free for lack of evidence. But, I know that lunatic did it. It's all in his eyes in his pictures. The worst part is that my DM knew it too but still was crazy enough to lay up and have a kid by him. I'm ashamed for her.)

And hey, that's only the tip of the iceberg! Ha-ha. Ha. I find this crap hilarious too. No one knows about this either. The media will do anything to get a new cover story on you but the movie industry works over time for that. They bribe big snitches like, "The Outsider" or "ZMT" to keep their little notebooks empty about their actors. Luckily it's worked ever since. Sucks for people who work for lower industries because if they can't match the amount they would get from your business being out there then you're done. And the industries out there are filled with secrets, lies, and blackmail. They have more problems than the first episode of, "Girl Gossiping". And to top it all off, once you're in, you can't get out. It's like being in a gang: If you can take the industries bullshit, the media, the press, and countless people snooping in your history than you're apart on the big secret. You try to tell the world? Go ahead. Do it. But if they find out it's you then they will do the following; 1. Make a cover story to act like that isn't true or it's just a skit or something. 2. Call "Human Resources" to teach you a couple of things. (Probably painful things too) 3. Make everyone you know, love, and care about, turn against you. 4. Make your life a living hell until you die or ultimately disappear off the face of the world. And all in four perfect steps. Not a beat missed. "Money is the ruler of all evil" And they weren't lying either.

So where do I come into this? I don't know. I guess we'll find out though, huh?

If you can't stand the rain, then stay inside.

~ Jaime 'Jojo' Harpner Jr. ~


	2. Motherly Visits

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from "Horton Hears a Who" Only name changes and my characters. I also mixed a few real named TV shows, which aren't mine either.**

**Author's Note: Hey everyone. Welcome to Chapter 2 of my story! I don't have much to say but read and review and enjoy! Thanks!**

Motherly Visits

Nothing is worse than when someone constantly holds down the doorbell repeatedly. Diiiiing Doooooong. See what I mean? Just makes me want to haul up and punch their lights out. But the disaster of this whole thing is that I know exactly who this ringer is without even having to look. I flip over on my left side and gazed sleepily at the clock. 3:02 A.M. Shit. The doorbell continues to be pressed and I screamed, "Hold on!"

Why me? Why can't this woman leave me alone? I get up, grab my navy robe, and put it on. I run down the stairs two at a time and I'm still not able to get to the door before it rings one last, deadening time. I slowly open the door and what do I see? My mother and not a second late either. I see she dyed her fur again too. It looks like a soft cotton candy pink with light blue spots on her hands and feet. It would look pretty if her fur wasn't matted down and clumped on her skin. She looks more raggedy then a catter left out in the rain for weeks.

"Hi baby." She says.

"Hi mother." I know she's only here for one thing. Especially at three o'clock in the morning too. Drugs. She must have ran out of money and needs to 'borrow' some more. I wonder why that shit doesn't get old? Doesn't it start to taste nasty or something after awhile? But I guess if it didn't then the word 'addicted' and 'drugs' wouldn't be in the same sentence.

"Hows you been doing?" Ah. Drunk too? Sometimes she's too much.

"I'm doing fine mother. I think I should be asking you that though."

She coughs viscously for a few seconds then said, "Same old same old, baby."

"I bet."

Then she sits there and looks like she wants to come in. Then I realized that her Whoville keychain with her house key wasn't on her neck. She could've left it or missed placed it, I thought even though I was lying to myself. She never takes that keychain off unless she was evicted. Figures. I had already known that she must have been using that money for other, priorities, than bills.

"Baby?"

"Yes mother?"

"I know you probably already knew but…" She always does this. Always wants me to complete her thoughts, her dreams, her goals. She must be either deaf or stupid for not even considering whether or not I had any of my own. She wouldn't be the first nor the last. But sometimes you just say fuck it and make them figure it out. Unfortunately this was one of my days.

"No I don't know mother."

"Well, as you know, I was running on a tight budget these past weeks. I could barely afford the essentials and stuff. They seem to be cuttin' your pay check huh?"

"I haven't worked on a movie in ages so I'm on a fixed income now."

"Well, because of all these things, I couldn't keep up with my bills. So because I didn't have money for the third month, they evicted me."

I had already had known she was going to get to it eventually.

"I need a place to stay baby." She was already gathering her water falls for her deep hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry mother but I can't. It's a long story and it's three o'clock in the morning. I can lend you some money to stay in a motel." Her eyes lit up when I said 'money'. She didn't want to stay anyways all she wanted was some money to keep doing what she was doing before. It never fails.

"How much?" Can't she say thank you first? Bitch.

"How about three hundred? That should cover you until you figure out something permanent."

"Ok, that sounds good," she coughs again. "Thanks baby. I don't know what I would do without you." Not much.

I had gone back inside to grab my wallet. She prefers cash instead of checks. When I came back she was smoking a Portnew. After I gave it to her I leaned against a wall until I slid down on the floor. My house was dark and because my fur was mostly black and grey, I blended in.

Why did I keep doing this? Before I thought I was helping her but clearly I'm not. She is a lost cause, more than likely there isn't any hope. I wonder what druggies see? Pitch black probably. Ha-ha. I should know. I used to be one too. Ha-ha. Ha. But the difference between me and them is that my body all of a sudden hated it. It wouldn't let me take any more shots of nothing but good stuff. I've been clean for over 4 years and intend on staying that way too. I just hope my mother doesn't end up on the street. Dead.


	3. Nightmares

**Disclaimer****: I do not own anything from "Horton Hears a Who" Only name changes and my characters. I also mixed a few real named TV shows, which aren't mine either.**

**Author's Note: Hey everyone. I know it's been over a year since I've updated/uploaded any story whatsoever. I just didn't have the time like I used to and later on, my computer ended up braking after 7 years. I got a new one now and it's all mine so I'm going to try my best to upload a bit more frequently now. I chose this story to continue first because it seems to be the one people still favorite the most. So without another word, here is chapter 3 everyone! (Review and Rate too ^^ )**

_Nightmares _

Sometimes during the night, I have nightmares. I can't really think of the origin of the nightmares but I remember them vividly each time I awake from them. I've had the same nightmares since I can remember. Always the same thing…

"_Jamie? Jamie? Jamie?" _

"_Where are you Jamie?"_

"_Are you scared?"_

"_Petrified?"_

"_Why are you running away from me?"_

"_Why don't you smile…"_

"_Smile."_

_*Screaming*_

"_Why does the knife cut so deep through a person? Is it because they're weak? They can't handle the loss and pain. So they cut. Cut so deeply that a person seems to attempt to cut out the pain. Why, your mother does that… Funny how the world works son…"_

"_Funny how it works…"_

These dreams. They're always the same. The dark hole. The endless screams. That voice. The voice of a man I have never seen face to face and yet… Knows me so well. That man always holds a knife. I can never see that ill-fated knife, but feel it's dark presence near me. My mother, who is always standing behind me, calling me as if I'm miles away from her. Our screams mold together in a deep song that continues along with the voice of that man.

These dreams are only about five minutes but seem to last for eternity. I always wake up panting and sweaty. Shaking from the realness of the dream, but calmed by the reality of being alone. I could never understand why I always get the same nightmare. It haunts me for hours. The world seems much colder after. I feel like someone will slit my throat and leave me to die alone. Alone.

After I slowly realize where I am, I slowly rise from my bed and glance at the clock. 6:43. My mother is more than likely running the streets, drugged up and insane. I fear of her safety and always ensure her most current location of where she lives so I can keep a distant eye on her. After this morning expected arrival, I doubt she went any motel and probably went straight downtown to Whospot for her daily supply.

After a light breakfast, I get ready for my day at my part-time job as a waiter down at Nib's Diner. Although being a short-time celebrity is nice, it's not a full job for everyone. If you get your two hundred-thousand dollar contract with a movie producer but can't get into another acting position then your life moves on. I remember when everyone knew who I was, I was famous. Couldn't even walk down the damn street without people screaming, "Oh my gosh doodles, it's Jojo!" Now people barely even know who I am. This vampire/hot guy production crap is taking away the older people who were here first. I guess that's what people want now. No one wants cartoons about sweet things anymore. Only sex, money, and hot guys. I'm just not into that kind of stuff.

Unfortunately, these negative thoughts about my mother's whereabouts are driving me insane. I can't go to work without at least knowing she has a place to stay. I call in to Joseph, my manager, and tell him I'm sick. He says it's cool and that they're covered today. I change out of my work close and throw on some casual stuff. I know this is dangerous but my mother is currently all I have, I can't abandon her, my father did a great job of that. I grab my keys and run out the front door, knowing I might never come back.


End file.
